


Pudding and Other Necessities

by AnnaVarg



Series: The Phoenix and the Griffon [3]
Category: Dragon Age
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-10
Updated: 2012-09-10
Packaged: 2017-11-14 00:10:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/509256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaVarg/pseuds/AnnaVarg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kirkwall is full of little orphans, and Quinn Hawke is determined to make sure each and every one of them gets their pudding. In the meantime, he and Anders are settling into a life together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pudding and Other Necessities

Quinn Hawke couldn't, for the life of him, sleep in silence.  
  
Years of hiding from the templars had made him become used to sharing his sleeping space with his siblings. Their family had always been close, and when you added a mabari hound who liked to cuddle - well, bedtime had turned into a right kerfuffle, but he had never minded it that much. Carver had, seeking solitude whenever he could. Quinn understood why; it couldn't have been easy, growing up feeling overshadowed by two mage siblings. He hoped Carver had all the space he needed to grow among the Wardens, to be his own man like he so desperately wanted to be. He was all the family Quinn had now, apart from a good-for-nothing uncle who made derisive comments about his lover and only visited when his debts got too high to handle.  
  
He sighed into his pillow. Another night without Anders. Quinn understood getting lost in one's work - a particularly good book on arcane theory could keep him oblivious to the rest of the world for days - but helping mages escape the Gallows was a good deal more dangerous than working at the clinic. Quinn worried in silence, tossed and turned.  
  
Something needed to be done. Something always needed to be done; that was what being a Champion meant, being aware of what people needed and doing his best to provide it. It was the dead of winter, and the streets of Kirkwall were windswept and dusted with snow. He wondered about all the poor people stuck outside in the chilly weather, and the cogs in his head started to turn.  
  
Quinn still had to sleep, though, so with a little pang, he broke his promise to Anders - the last time, the absolutely last time - and opened the door to the bedroom. Soon he had a playful mabari on the bed next to him, licking his face gratefully and wagging his short tail. Quinn scratched the dear hound behind the ears, the way he liked best. He buried his face in the short light-brown hair, and slept, comforted.  
  
\-----------------  
  
The first guest he invited to stay in his estate was a young pickpocket. Quinn had a tendency to get stuck watching the clouds, or particularly interesting pieces of architecture, but even he had managed to grab the hand before it could make its way into his pocket. The little thief turned out to be a Fereldan boy not older than ten, dressed in rags and probably with no one in the whole world to look after him. He had likely been a farmer's son, because his hands were strong and calloused and far from deft enough for thievery.  
  
"And you shouldn't steal for a living, anyway," Quinn said gravely, trying to catch the boy's eye, but he kept squirming in his hold.  
  
"Not that badly, at least," Varric put in, unhelpfully. "The boy's giving Hightown's worst cutpurses a bad name."  
  
The child sniffled. "Sorry, messere. It's just - I was just - I was just so hungry. And the boys in Lowtown beat me and chased me away when I tried to beg there. Please, let me go. I won't do it again, promise."  
  
Hawke's heart ached for the boy, so polite even half passed out from hunger. He let go of him, trusting that he wouldn't run, and crouched down to look him in the eye. "Well, I'm happy to hear that. I'm Quinn. What's your name?"  
  
"I... Keavy, messere."  
  
"When was the last time you ate, Keavy?"  
  
The boy blinked, and wrung his hands. "Um... somebody threw me some bread yesterday. But the boys who beat me took it from me."  
  
Quinn turned to Anders, who was by his side, as always. "I think we're going to have a guest for dinner tonight. Do you mind?"  
  
The frown was a tell-tale sign that Anders wasn't completely sold on the idea yet. "It's your estate, but... Are you sure about this? He tries to pilfer your purse, and you invite him to use your cutlery?"

"Oh, I'm sure Keavy wouldn't - and in any case, I'm hardly going to miss a few spoons. It'll be wonderful to have some company. Not that I don't enjoy spending time with just you," Quinn hastened to explain.   
  
When it came to Anders, he still stumbled over his words more often than he would have liked. There was something about his lover that made his pulse trip-hammer, even after a year of more or less living together. Matters of the heart had always been something of a mystery to Quinn, who was more comfortable with books and scrolls. What was more, Anders was the first man he had fallen for, and likely the last as well, because he had fallen hard. Half the time, he didn't know which way was up, so head over heels he was.  
  
But Anders understood; sweet Anders, he read Quinn's meaning even when his words left his tongue in the wrong order. "You asked me to warn you when your big heart might get you in trouble, love. That's all."   
  
The smile was disarming. Quinn held on tight to his staff; his palms were suddenly sweaty.  
  
"That's settled then," he announced, pleased, because Doing Good was his favourite pastime, after finding unread books on the history of magic and snuggling with Anders.  
  
Keavy looked at him with wide eyes. "Really? You're going to just... _give_ me food?"  
  
"Absolutely. And dessert, by the looks of you. How do you feel about plum duff?"  
  
"Any excuse to have plum duff," Anders said, under his breath.  
  
"W-what's that?" Keavy asked, looking a little bewildered.   
  
Quinn gasped in horror, and scooped the thin little boy up in his arms. "You poor thing. Anders, we need to find some good raisins, right now. And a bottle or so of rum."  
  
Anders sighed, and shook his head, but the look he gave Quinn was laden with fondness. "That's why I love you, Quinn. You know how to prioritise."  
  
\-----------------

The next day, Keavy, having been introduced to the wonderful world of rum-soaked puddings, showed up with a friend, a little girl who was shivering with cold. Quinn gave her his old muffler, which hid half her face in thick wool, and fed her three bowls of soup. She brought her two sisters, and they told all their friends, and soon Quinn needed a bigger cauldron just to make enough porridge for the lot of them. Bodahn never complained, but Quinn caught him wringing his hands when Quinn moved the writing desk to the side in order to make room for little beds in the library.  
  
He appreciated Bodahn's concern, but aside from a few pieces of silverware, nothing had gone missing. Well, except for the vast amount of food the children scarfed down, but he could afford it now, and a few blankets and warm scarves hardly made that much of a difference, either. Seeing the look on the children's faces when they finished a huge helping of pie, or snuggled up for the night in the first warm bed they had seen in ages, was worth more than any amount of sovereigns.  
  
Wintersend was approaching, and Quinn was planning on a big feast - his reasons were rather sad and personal; he wanted to surround himself with company so he didn't stop and think about how much his mother had loved winter celebrations.  
  
"Something on your mind?" Anders could always see right through him. His arms wound around Quinn's waist, and he nodded his head against the back of Quinn's neck.  
  
"Just thinking about families," Quinn said, and had time to turn around and kiss him quickly, before Maura burst into the room riding the panting and bouncy mabari hound. "Oh, you two! Genitivi, what have I told you? Are you a pony, now?"  
  
The mabari barked enthusiastically, and when Maura slid down onto her feet, giggling so much she could barely draw breath, he nuzzled her, begging for pets. Maura was one of the youngest orphans who had practically moved in; she helped Bodahn and Sandal in the kitchen, and played with Genitivi whenever she wasn't needed elsewhere. The two had become fast friends.  
  
Anders picked her up, and gave her a quick whirl in the air, making her squeal in delight. She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tightly, and when Anders tried to put her down, she absolutely refused.  
  
Quinn laughed, and ruffled her dark, curly hair. "See? You're not lousy with children at all. Is he, Maura?"  
  
"Nuh uh," Maura confirmed, and poked at Anders's coat while he smiled helplessly. "How come you have feathers on your clothes?" Before Anders could answer, she went on: "Can I have feathers on my dress, too? But in prettier colours?"  
  
"Oh, that would be pretty, wouldn't it?" Quinn gently coaxed her to let go when she came perilously close to tugging a feather loose. "But think of the poor bird who'd be left naked and cold."  
  
Maura looked crestfallen, her lower lip starting to tremble. "I don't want it if it makes birds sad."  
  
"You want to see pretty birds, Maura?" Anders put her down in order to free his hands, and cupped one over the other. There was a shimmer of magic, and Maura peered at him curiously. Anders let her pull his hand away to reveal a tiny bird in spectacular shades of red and yellow and green. It beat its wings, and flew away just when Maura was about to grasp it.  
  
The little girl hopped after it, face alight with pure pleasure. The bird led her out of the library, and Genitivi followed her, smart enough not to chase magical illusions but playful enough to take part, anyway.

"That was relatively easy," Anders said with a relieved sigh, and smiled at Quinn. "How many are you planning to take in? It seems we're stumbling on orphans everywhere we go."  
  
"As many as need it." Quinn put his hand on Anders's shoulder. "Seriously, you're just great with them. Don't tell me you've never thought of having kids."  
  
Anders looked surprised, taking his hands in his own. "No, have you?"  
  
"Of course. I always wanted a big family."  
  
"Well," Anders said, smiling in a rather sly manner, "even with the magic of both of us combined, I don't think I can bear you any children, Quinn. Sorry."  
  
Quinn squeezed his hands firmly. "Silly. We _have_ a house full of children, in case you haven't noticed." He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, feeling self-conscious but happy. "Not that I would mind, particularly, if you wanted to. You know. Give it a try. Baby-making, that is."  
  
Anders chuckled under his breath, and Quinn could feel his cheeks catch fire. Maker, he was abysmally bad at flirting. He should stop trying altogether--  
  
A warm and eager mouth sought out his, and coaxed his lips to part, his tongue to lap against Anders's. He knew he must have made some kind of a noise roughly meaning "more, please", because Anders raised one hand to his jaw, and tilted his head a bit to the side, and... oh. Oh, sweet Andraste and all her followers.  
  
"Tonight?" Anders whispered against his lips.  
  
Quinn made a noise of assent, and nudged their mouths together again, because he thought he could just barely taste cinnamon on Anders's tongue, and perhaps apple, and he had to make sure...  
  
A familiar creak of metal made them both prick up their ears and slowly withdraw from the kiss.   
  
"That wasn't the chandelier, was it?" Quinn asked, knowing the answer all too well.  
  
Anders sighed, and tucked one more kiss on the side of his mouth before stepping back. "Your turn to fish Steafan down. I'll see where his sister has gone with your crazy dog."  
  
Judging by the clatter of pans, they were treasure-hunting in the kitchen pantry. The sausages were in serious danger.  
  
Quinn caught Anders by the hand when he was about to dash off. "Anders... tonight."   
  
His smile trembled around the edges; Maker, he looked forward to it.  
  
Anders gave his hand a squeeze, and sent a jolt of tickling magic through him. His eyes glimmered. "Absolutely."  
  
Watching him jog out of the library, Quinn took a deep breath and let it out, feeling loved to the tips of his toes. Was there a luckier man alive?  
  
Oh. Right. The chandelier. He shook his head clear of images of Anders in various stages of undress, and hurried on his way.

\-----------------

The dinner was a noisy affair, as it tended to be with eight mouths to feed - nine if one counted Genitivi, who certainly did his part in eating, making rounds under the table to beg for scraps, no matter how many times Quinn ordered him to stop. Maybe the hound could tell his heart wasn't truly in it. Saying no had never been Quinn's strong suit.  
  
That was put to the test when someone knocked on the door. Bodahn hurried to open it - Quinn insisted that he and Sandal eat with him and Anders, but he jumped up whenever something needed doing in the estate.  
  
"More guests, messere," Bodahn said, and showed two children in.  
  
At least they weren't dressed in rags, although they were both sniffling and shivering with cold, two boys who looked so alike they had to be brothers. The younger boy looked about seven; his brother couldn't have been many years older.  
  
"Sorry to bother you, messere Hawke," the older boy started, biting his lip, "Steafan said that we could, um, come see you if - if we were hungry."  
  
"You're a little late for dinner, but let's see." Quinn turned to Bodahn. "What do you think? Do we have enough soup?"  
  
Anders stood up, raising his hand to halt him. "Hold on. I know you. You're the cobbler's son, from Lowtown. I met your father when I was setting up my clinic. Corentin, right? And that's your little brother?"  
  
The boys glanced at each other, taken aback. "Um, messere--"  
  
Quinn eyed Maura, who had been about to drop a slice of cold ham to Genitivi, and went to kneel in front of the two boys. "All right, let's hear the truth, Corentin. If you're not orphans, why aren't you at home? It's already dark outside. Your parents must be worried about you."  
  
"They're not," Corentin's little brother piped up, looking at Quinn with a defiant air. There was barely contained hurt in the child's eyes, he could see that right away.  
  
Corentin was gnawing his lip again, his eyes cast down. "Please, messere Hawke. I can - I can find some place to go. But Luc doesn't have socks, and his feet are so cold."  
  
Not only did he have no socks, Quinn realised with horror, but the poor child had no shoes, either. He had walked to his estate barefoot in the snow. "Oh, dear." He looked up; Anders was already by his side. "Why don't you sit down on that bench, Luc, and let Anders take a look at those feet of yours. I'll see about finding you something that'll warm you up a little, hm?"  
  
"You haven't told us why you can't just go home, yet," Anders pointed out, crossing his arms over his chest.  
  
Quinn looked up at him. "Anders," he said, voice hushed with sympathy, "look at them. Obviously something bad has happened. They'll tell us in their own time. But those toes need to be checked right now. Please?"  
  
Corentin and his brother bit back tears, shifted uncomfortably in their attempt to be brave.

Steafan had left the table, and was now tugging on Quinn's sleeve. He bent closer so that Steafan could whisper into his ear: "Corentin's dad's in the Foggy Dew. I think he's locked them out again."  
  
Quinn nodded, and reached out to brush melting snow from Corentin's shoulder. "Where's your mother, Corentin?" he asked.  
  
"...The Gallows," the boy muttered without looking up. "Since last summer."  
  
Anders's hands were glowing softly with his healing magic to ease the pain of Luc's frostbitten feet, but when he heard that dreaded name, the light flickered.  
  
"Oh, you poor dear. They took your mother away?" Quinn's throat felt like it was going to close up. He knew that pain all too well.  
  
That seemed to be the last straw, and Corentin leaned into him, bursting into exhausted tears, too tired to be strong in front of his little brother. Quinn held him close and whispered soothing nothings as he stroked his hair, and little fists clenched into his jacket.  
  
Bodahn cleared his throat. "Messere...? Shall I prepare blankets for them both?"  
  
Quinn withdrew gently, and looked Corentin in the eye to make sure his sobs were quieting down. "Yes. They'll have to double up, but that's not a problem, is it?"  
  
Corentin shook his head, wiping his cheeks on his sleeves.

"I thought so. You're used to looking after your little brother, aren't you? It was very clever of you to bring him here. You'll both be safe here." Quinn smiled, and patted him on the shoulder. "Why don't you follow Bodahn to the kitchen, and he'll find you a little something to eat."  
  
Corentin nodded, and did his best to smile back. "A-all right. Thank you, messere Hawke."  
  
"Call me Quinn. Everyone else here does. Now, off you go. It's almost bedtime."  
  
Luc wriggled his toes, now coloured a healthy pink, and followed his brother, but turned to give Anders a sudden, wide smile over his shoulder.  
  
Anders glanced at Quinn, and read his thoughts immediately. He sighed, but in that familiar what-am-I-going-to-do-with-you way that made Quinn feel quite warm inside.  
  
"Two more?"  
  
Quinn shrugged, and gave him a little smile.  
  
"The next ones are going to have to sleep in the kitchen pantry, you do realise that? Unless you're willing to throw out a shelf or two of books?"  
  
"Don't even joke about that," Quinn warned, shivering at the mere thought of his precious collection lying in a snowbank. "Do you think you might be able to find their mother? Maybe get a message delivered?"  
  
Justice drew Anders's spine straight and made his voice echo. "She should be with her husband and children. I'm sure her husband didn't drink and neglect his children like this before the templars took her."  
  
It was Quinn's turn to sigh because he understood, and he touched his hand to Anders's cheek. "I'm sure you're right. But let's start with finding out her name, hm? Take a deep breath, love. You know it makes the children anxious when you glow like that."  
  
The spirit's fury abated, and Anders grasped Quinn's hand like a lifeline. "I'm sorry."  
  
Quinn kissed the first place he could reach, which was the side of Anders's nose. It was probably the wrong place to kiss someone, but Anders closed his eyes nonetheless and let out a pleased hum.   
  
"Don't worry about it. I know Justice comes and goes. I--"  
  
He was interrupted by Steafan, climbing up his clothes. He pulled the wriggling little boy all the way up into his arms, and Steafan grinned, showing all his missing baby teeth.  
  
"Thank you for letting Corentin stay," he said, and wrapped his arms tightly around Quinn's neck. "You're the best Quinn in the whole world."  
  
"You've got that right," Anders said, eyes twinkling with amusement and affection both as he looked at Quinn over the boy's head, and it momentarily reduced Quinn's vocabulary to a hushed _Anders_.  
  
"Will you make those moving magic pictures again when you read us our bedtime story?" Steafan asked.  
  
That caught the attention of the rest of the children, who had mostly finished their dinners.  
  
"Magic pictures! Magic pictures!"  
  
"I want to see the phoenix again!"  
  
"You promised us a griffon story tonight!"  
  
Quinn nudged Anders, trying to keep his hold on Steafan, who was never still for more than a blink of an eye. "Well, you're the Warden in the house. What about it? Want to tell them a story about griffons?"  
  
"Griffons!" Steafan agreed, climbing from Quinn's arms to Anders's, grabby hands catching the fastenings of his coat.  
  
"That isn't really a part of mandatory Warden training, you know," Anders pointed out, and set Steafan down onto his feet. "And I left them quite a few years ago, as you might recall."  
  
Quinn sent Steafan back to the dinner table to finish his nutbread and turned all his attention on Anders. "Please? I'll run us a bath in the meantime." He thought back to when Genitivi had been a puppy, begging for pets, and gave Anders his best imitation of the look. He briefly contemplated actually changing into a puppy, or perhaps a kitten, because he knew just the right spell for it, but decided it wasn't really practical.  
  
Anders said yes, of course, eventually. But puppy eyes hadn't done the trick; as it turned out, all he needed was to be kissed into it.  
  
\-----------------

They didn't get to enjoy the bath together, unfortunately, because one of the children always needed something, especially with the two new additions to the more permanent guests. Eventually, Quinn carried the last of them, little Maura, to her bed. She was half-asleep after listening to three stories (one of them Anders's, complete with griffons that flew around the laughing and clapping children, and two of them Quinn's) and then sneaking to the cellar with Genitivi. Her limp arms were draped around him, and she clung to him like a Seheronian tree monkey, but that didn't stop her from insisting in a mumble that she wanted the mabari to sleep in her bed. Quinn acquiesced, if only because that might stop Genitivi from pawing the door to the bedroom and whining pitifully when Quinn didn't let him in. The children snuggled closer to each other under their thick blankets to make room for the mabari hound, who immediately rolled over, hoping for tummy rubs.  
  
"Guard them well, now," Quinn reminded him, gave him a scratch behind the ear, and blew the candles out after he had made sure everyone was tucked in, safe and sound.  
  
He knew his way around his own estate, in the dark or not. There was a soft glow spilling into the corridor from under the door of the bedroom, and Quinn followed it, slipping quietly inside. The embers were glowing in the fireplace, but Anders had also lit a lamp, and was sitting at Quinn's writing desk, tapping his nose with a quill, a piece of parchment full of scribbles in front of him. He stood up when he heard Quinn come in, and greeted him with a smile that warmed more than the embers, lighted Quinn's way more than any lamp.  
  
Quinn sighed happily, and closed the door behind him, and took a moment to simply _look_ at Anders, whose hair was still damp and a shade darker after his bath, and who was only wearing his breeches, and with his belt hardly buckled at that, allowing the fabric to dip low and expose a trail of coarse hair. His hip bones jutted out a little, so lean he was, working hard at the clinic and for the mage liberation, but Quinn could see muscle on his shoulders, filling out his arms.  
  
Anders was about half a dozen puddings short of absolutely perfect, Quinn decided, and the best part of him was that he was right here, his to be loved.  
  
"Hey," Anders said, and after a year of attentive study of all things Anders, Quinn knew it meant "come over here and kiss me," so he did just that.  
  
It was a soft and slow kiss, warm lips and warmer breaths. As he was finding the best way to hold Anders closer, Quinn became aware that Anders's heart was thrumming, and there was a subtle tension to him. He had barely laid a hand on Anders yet.  
  
"Was writing the manifesto that... stimulating?" He tried to make it a joke instead of innuendo, but then remembered that it probably didn't help, since he was equally inept at both. "Well, I-I mean, that _would_ explain why I keep finding copies everywhere--"  
  
Anders pressed a smile against Quinn's neck that grew into a grin, then a kiss. His both hands came up to comb back Quinn's hair - it was curling again, and slipping loose, although Quinn had vigorously dried it and tied it back.  
  
"It's you." Anders kissed him on the mouth, tasted him with a quick flick of tongue. "You're too good to be true."  
  
Quinn's heart hopped to it, and hurried to catch up to Anders's as the kiss turned positively delirious.  
  
"You're over-dressed," Anders gasped, and tugged at the lacings of Quinn's shirt.  
  
It was true, in a way; Quinn wasn't wearing it because he was cold. After being teased all his childhood, and even a part of his adult life, about his freckles, he covered them instinctively whenever he could. Anders didn't seem to mind them, but then again, it did tend to be quite dark when they were naked together. At least it was winter, and the sun didn't double their number.  
  
"And you're over-thinking," Anders added, his hand sliding underneath the shirt.  
  
Quinn blinked. "Oh! Sorry."  
  
"Don't go wandering anywhere. I have plans for you right here."

Quinn hurried to kiss him, hoping to reassure him that there was nowhere he'd rather be. Anders wrapped his arms around Quinn underneath the shirt, which pushed it up, and Quinn wriggled the shirt over his head and out of the way. When bare skin touched bare skin, it sent a shiver through them both, and the next kiss had a flash of heat to it.  
  
Quinn almost jumped out of his skin when he heard someone rattling the door knob. He couldn't remember if he had locked the door, but apparently not, because after a few tries, Lydia managed to get the door open, although she was so short she had to stand on tiptoe to reach the knob.  
  
"Lydia," Quinn said, blushing and looking around for his shirt, "why aren't you in bed?"  
  
She clutched her doll closer, eyes huge and glinting with tears. "I think... I think there's a boogster under the stairs."  
  
"A what?" Anders asked, clearing his throat. His hand lingered on Quinn's side, fingers stroking the skin idly, which _really_ didn't help, but Quinn couldn't bring himself to say anything about it.  
  
"A _boogster_ ," Lydia whispered, shooting a warning look at Anders, as if the nightmare creature - a mixture of bogeyman and monster - could hear them.  
  
Quinn struggled to control his own rapidly beating heart and smiled to Lydia. "All right, well, why don't you wait for me in the corridor, and we'll show that nasty boogster what's what."  
  
He found his shirt, and pulled it on - backwards, as it turned out, but it would do. Anders had sat down on the edge of the bed, and Quinn bent down to give him a quick but heartfelt kiss.  
  
"I'll be right back."  
  
Anders smiled and nodded. "All right. Hurry, would you?"  
  
Oh, Quinn intended to.  
  
He took Lydia's hand, and walked her to the stairs, and showed her that there was nothing lurking there waiting to gobble her up.   
  
"But what if it's just waiting for you to go to sleep and then comes back?" Lydia asked.  
  
Quinn kicked his brain, which was currently busy with lurid memories of the last time he and Anders had spent the night together, and it obligingly abandoned that train of thought and offered him a solution. He took a candlestick, and lit the candle. A touch of magic turned the flame pale pink, her favourite colour.  
  
"In that case, we'll put this magic candle in the library. As long as it's burning, no boogster can enter."  
  
Lydia smiled, and insisted she got to carry the candle back to where the other children were sleeping. Quinn set the candle on a shelf high enough that it couldn't be knocked over, and Lydia went back to bed, comforted by the warm pink light. Quinn drew the blanket over her, and sneaked back upstairs.  
  
Anders grabbed him before the door had even closed behind him, kissing him dizzy. Before Quinn knew it, he had lost his shirt again, and his socks, and Anders was busy getting rid of the trousers as well, and he had absolutely nothing against it.  
  
"Is it... getting warmer in here?" Quinn glanced over his shoulder as Anders marked his collar bone with a wet kiss. "Oh, it is, you've fed the fire--"  
  
"Quinn," Anders said, taking a deep breath, and cupping Quinn's cheek, "are you doing that _on purpose?_ "  
  
"Doing what?" Quinn asked, worried that he had offended Anders somehow, and wound his arms around him, pulling him close. He had forgotten that he was now naked, and the closeness made Anders grit his teeth against a low groan. There was only one layer of fabric between their straining erections.  
  
"Teasing me to the brink of madness," Anders murmured, and kissed him with trembling tension.  
  
Certainly not. Quinn was hardly the scheming kind, and with Anders holding him, kissing him, he couldn't think of a cunning plan if his life depended on it. "Sorry. I don't mean to. You know how I get when I'm nervous, I start noticing things, and blabbering, and it gets so hard to focus, even on something as wonderful as you--"  
  
"Nervous?" Anders withdrew, and looked at him, suddenly gravely serious. He ran his knuckles lightly down Quinn's neck, his chest. "You're nervous? Why? It's me, Quinn."

Quinn tried to put his jumbled thoughts in an order that would make sense to Anders. "Well, I... Sometimes I worry - not all the time, you understand, just sometimes, when I'm feeling a little down, or when I'm distracted--"  
  
" _Quinn,_ " Anders said, gently but firmly, and nudged him to meet his steady gaze, grounding him.  
  
"Yes. I'm sorry." He stole a kiss from Anders's hot, parted lips. "What I'm trying to say is, you're a wonderful lover, really, you are, with your hands and your mouth and your magic and, and, and I'm just worried that I don't, well, measure up, if you get my meaning. You're the first man I've ever _felt_ this way about, and I don't always know how to, well, be..."  
  
Anders blinked, and then let out a bark of laughter. "Quinn, love, I'm all but _panting like a mabari_ here; I don't think--"  
  
"It's irrational, I know," Quinn interrupted, aware of how his cheeks burnt. "I just wish I could make you feel as good as you make me feel," he added in whisper, because his throat felt strangely thick, and his heart lurched in his chest.  
  
It got very quiet, and Quinn could hear the faint crackle of the fireplace, and Anders's halting breaths. He hoped he hadn't made Anders worry, because really, he was fine, more than fine.  
  
Anders's hand hovered near his chin, and he dragged his fingertips up Quinn's jawline, achingly careful. "You're... worried that you're not doing _enough?_ " His voice was hushed, but by what, Quinn couldn't say. "Oh, my dear Quinn."  
  
A knock on the door interrupted Quinn's answer, which was fortunate, because he had a feeling he would have probably babbled again. He took a step to answer it, then remembered he was naked, and realised the problem.  
  
Luckily Anders seemed to think more clearly. "Get into bed," he said, quietly, and kissed him; "I'll take care of it."  
  
Quinn agreed, if only because he was starting to feel silly, standing there with no clothes on, and hurried under the covers.  
  
It was Steafan, rubbing his sleepy eyes. "Can I sleep here with you, Quinn?"  
  
"Bad dream?" Anders asked, scooping him up, and for once, Steafan didn't wriggle. He nodded heavily, and yawned, nuzzling closer.  
  
"It was only a dream, Steafan, and it's over now. Let's get you to your bed."  
  
"I wanna stay here," the boy protested.  
  
"Some other time," Quinn promised with a smile. "You already had the bad dream, so the rest of the night should be filled with only good ones, right? Good night, Steafan."  
  
Steafan mumbled good night back, and Anders carried him out of the room, leaving the door ajar. Quinn lay down on his back in the middle of his vast bed, tingling with anticipation.  
  
 _My dear Quinn,_ he thought, the memory of Anders speaking those words so sweet it cramped his chest. The first part was certainly true, because he belonged to Anders if Anders was willing to have him, every fumbling, bumbling bit of him.  
  
He rolled over onto his side, and started counting seconds, waiting for Anders to return.

\-----------------

Anders was gone so long that Quinn started leafing through the book he currently had on the night stand - _The Myths and Legends of the Blessed Age_ \- but he couldn't truly focus on the words. He contemplated getting dressed and following Anders, only to abandon the idea, because having to take off his clothes _four_ times in one night was a little much, no matter how tantalising Anders could make it.  
  
When the door finally opened, Quinn quickly pushed the book away. Anders took his time making sure the door was locked before sighing and starting to unbuckle his belt.  
  
"Are the children all right?" Quinn asked, watching him with rapt attention.  
  
Anders seemed to have no idea how tempting a figure he cut, shedding the rest of his clothing in the soft firelight. "They're asleep. The next time one of them wakes up, they'll just have to go to Bodahn for another bedtime story." He crawled into bed, and reached out for Quinn under the covers, leaning in for a kiss.  
  
Quinn smiled when the kiss ended. "They're kids. They can't help it if they have a bad dream, you know. Most of them have probably suffered terrible hardships. A couple of stories and a plum duff or two are really the least I can give them."  
  
Anders's gaze was smouldering, there was no other word for it, his fingers drawing indistinct patterns on Quinn's cheek. "That's your answer to everything, love. Give, give, give." His lips touched Quinn's in something that was closer to a caress than a kiss. "Even with me, all you worry about is if you're giving me _enough_."  
  
His hand trailed down Quinn's rapidly warming body, awakening skin to shivery pleasure. Quinn thought he could sense magic in his touch, a tingling sensation that made him hold his breath. Magic touched him deeper than Anders's fingers could, creating a gentle wave that lapped at his skin.  
  
"I think you deserve all I can give you," Quinn said, and meant it.  
  
He let Anders gently push him down, and arched his back when Anders's mouth latched onto the junction of neck and shoulder, on the smattering of freckles that never completely faded.  
  
Anders's breath hit the wet, sensitive skin. "Tonight, I want to do the giving," he whispered, and his fingers reached Quinn's abdomen, making him draw in his stomach and tense up in anticipation. "I want you to lie back for me, and _take_ instead."  
  
Quinn swallowed with a dry throat, because Anders's mouth left a wet trail down his chest, through the curly hair. "Y-yes. Oh, Anders, I... I'm all yours."   
  
The covers were pushed to the side, and Anders moved downwards, his skin sliding over Quinn's. Quinn closed his eyes and surrendered to the mouth and hands that directed his pleasure. He trusted Anders, implicitly, because Anders's ease with this, with him, was only a piece of the whole; every time skin touched skin, he felt the love that bound them together.  
  
Anders's mouth found a nipple, and lavished it with delicate attention, licking it wetly, then circling it with just the tip of his tongue, until Quinn squirmed and gasped, and still Anders didn't relent. Quinn was only held in place by the palm making soothing circles over his navel, fingers curling every now and then to _scratch_ softly... Oh, he and his mabari were exactly the same in this regard: tummy rubs melted away all resistance.  
  
Quinn's hips flexed, he couldn't help it, his cock filling with throbbing heat. Anders's hand drifted down to roll down the foreskin and give smooth strokes along the length, stopping at the ridge of the exposed glans. Quinn knew he was making some kind of noise, a muffled whimper pleading for more, but his blood was rushing too loudly in his ears to hear it.  
  
Then Anders sat up, leaving Quinn without his sweet touch, and he opened his eyes, reaching out for him.  
  
Anders took his hand, kissed it and pressed it back down on the bed. His gaze wandered over Quinn, and its searing intensity made Quinn blush. Anders was breathing hard, his beautiful cock erect just from touching Quinn, seeing to his needs.  
  
"Roll over for me," he mumbled, and reached out for one of the big down pillows.

Oh, Quinn knew this part. The thought of what was coming made a tendril of want curl tightly in his stomach. They had only done it like this a few times before; generally, Anders insisted on being on the receiving end, so to speak, and Quinn obliged, of course, because Anders seemed to enjoy it so much. He quite liked taking care of Anders, making sure he didn't get hurt in his eagerness, and watching him lose himself to the pleasure Quinn gave him.  
  
This, this was still a little new, however. He knew Anders would be gentle with him, but he had never been taken like this, with his back to Anders. Granted, lying on his back had always made the muscles in his legs cramp, but it had been worth it to see the look on Anders's face.  
  
Words bubbled out of Quinn before he could stop them. "Did I tell you I moved the oil from the bottom drawer to the middle one? I think I did, but if I didn't, that's where it is."  
  
Anders chuckled, and kissed his shoulder - again, paying no heed to the freckles there. He nuzzled close as Quinn positioned the pillow under his stomach and pushed it further down so it lifted his hips. "I won't be needing that. Not just yet, anyway."  
  
Then why the pillow, Quinn wanted to ask, but Anders dragged his lips down his spine, and all his thoughts scattered. It already felt like Anders was touching him everywhere, hovering so close. He dropped hot kisses on the freckled skin, then drifted lightly over Quinn's shoulder blades, his tongue drawing wet patterns that made Quinn gasp and claw at the sheets. In order to not entirely wreck the bed, Quinn pulled another pillow close, and squeezed it tightly as Anders made his slow, teasing way down his back.  
  
By the time Anders reached the small of his back, Quinn's limbs were trembling with desire, so overpowering he didn't even wonder what Anders intended before he felt palms massaging his buttocks, then a wet tongue probing between them.  
  
"A-Anders," he managed, trying to look at him over his shoulder, "what - _where_ are you--"  
  
"You don't like it?" Anders asked, but it wasn't a real question, because he teased Quinn with the tip of his tongue, circling--  
  
"That... that isn't the point," Quinn tried to tell himself and Anders both, because his cock perked up with every lick, oozing wetness against his stomach. "Isn't it - _off-putting_ , dirty, I mean - you don't have to--"  
  
Anders let out an amused hum, and only paused in his slow, maddening teasing long enough to speak. "You've just had a bath; you're hardly dirty. I can even smell your soap. And there is nothing off-putting about your body to me, Quinn. Nothing at all."  
  
 _Nothing at all._ His tongue flicked over the tight ring of muscle, coaxing and tempting, and Quinn could feel himself starting to give in, surrendering to the pleasure that electrified him. He moaned faintly into the pillow as he felt the tip of Anders's tongue pushing inside him; such a little movement, but he felt it to the tips of his toes and fingers. He yearned for more of it, he realised, and wriggled wantonly under Anders.  
  
"Anders," he spluttered, sure that he would lose his control, lose his _mind_ if his lover continued, "oh, Anders, please--"  
  
Just when he thought he couldn't take any more, Anders withdrew. Quinn heard him open the drawer, but couldn't bring himself to turn to look at him; he was taut as a tripwire, waiting to be sprung.  
  
Anders's lips brushed his shoulder, his arm wrapping loosely around him. "Quinn," he whispered, making the name an endearment. "Tell me what you want, and I'll give it to you. I'm yours to have, any way you want me."  
  
How lucky was he, to have such an amazing lover? Quinn's head reeled at the trust and generosity, the sincerity in Anders's voice.  
  
"I," he started, and hesitated, feeling oddly bashful, considering what Anders had just finished doing, and how his body had reacted to it. "I want you, love. On me, or, or under me, however it works, really, just--"  
  
"Inside you?" Anders suggested, and almost sounded innocent, pushing Quinn's hair aside to kiss his nape.

Quinn rolled over onto his side in order to look at his face, and tried to communicate with his eyes how he adored him, even if his mouth only mumbled nonsense. "Yes, please. If you would. That would be - I'd like that. Only, gently. Not that you're ever anything _but_ gentle, of course. We just haven't, not in a while, I mean--"  
  
Anders burst into fond laughter, nuzzling the side of his face. "You could have stopped at 'yes', you know."  
  
He was blushing hotly down to his shoulders, he knew it, damn his fair skin, and turned away. "Oh. Right. Sorry. Waffling on again. Never mind me, love."  
  
Anders's hands were busy elsewhere, but he kissed Quinn's neck, languidly. "Mm, I've told you, I don't mind if you prattle. I like it, because it's you. I just don't want you to be nervous."  
  
An oil-slick finger glided over Quinn's opening, making him tense up. Point made, he thought, and did his best to relax. _Anders, think about Anders. Think about how much you trust him, how good and gentle he is to you..._  
  
The finger didn't push very deep inside him, so he knew Anders had abandoned teasing him. Another joined it, bringing with it more oil, and Quinn had a brief moment of discomfort when the digits stretched him. The burn faded away, fortunately, and Anders kept kissing his neck and shoulders, murmuring words of endearment and comfort. Sweet Anders. His Anders.  
  
When the third finger joined the others, a throaty noise escaped Quinn, part eagerness, part surprise at the added pressure. Anders's other hand slid over Quinn's side to his stomach, but didn't wrap around his cock like he expected, instead circling his navel, rubbing and scratching, and somehow that was even better. Anders must have sensed how hard he was, how taut and aching to be touched; Anders's strokes would have either finished him off too quickly, or increased the ache to uncomfortable levels. He marvelled at how well Anders could read him, anticipate his needs and wants. Then Anders's finger reached inside him at just the right angle, and pulled a ragged moan out of him, and he could think of nothing else but how much he wanted to be one with him.  
  
He could feel Anders shifting behind him, heard his impatient gasps as he guided Quinn back onto his stomach. When Anders finally pushed closer, Quinn's breath caught: he felt slick and hard, but _cold_.  
  
"Y-you're..." he started, but Anders realised quickly what had happened, and his skin grew warmer as magic shimmered in the air.  
  
"Oh, sorry. Just a little spell to keep myself in check."  
  
Quinn thought of using his elemental magic on himself, and shuddered; that could go horribly wrong. Still, maybe it came in handy, especially if--  
  
Anders's very, very warm fingers grasped his erection in the meagre space between the soft pillow and his body, and Quinn bit his lip, which did little but turn his eager noise more guttural. His neck was kissed, wetly and teasingly.  
  
"Better?"  
  
Quinn made another noise, and hoped it properly conveyed that he was more than ready, sprawled and panting and utterly pliant in Anders's skilled hands. Anders's cock rubbed against him, so close but not close enough.  
  
Anders's breath misted the skin behind Quinn's ear, his tongue flicking out for a taste. "Now?"  
  
"Now," Quinn agreed, and a shudder went up his spine when Anders's cock inched into him, filling him so completely. It stretched him to a burning point, but he could feel Anders inside him, joined as one with him, and everything in him was singing with joy at the thought of it.  
  
The hand Anders leaned on for leverage groped around for Quinn's, and their fingers laced tightly together when Anders pulled back, only to push further in. He changed the angle slightly, and nudged that wonderful, wonderful place inside Quinn, who closed his eyes and saw bright sparks.  
  
"Anders - Oh, that's - _ahh_ \--"   
  
There was no point to trying to speak coherently, not when Anders was thrusting deep into him, holding a steady pace. Not when his palm kept rubbing over the swollen head of Quinn's cock. Not when he breathed hard into the fine curls at the back of Quinn's neck, gasping half-formed words of wonder and affection.

Quinn caught himself edging closer to climax, the tension at the pit of his stomach slowly spreading everywhere. He did his best to ignore how Anders's touch sparked fire in him, and pushed his hips back, tentatively meeting Anders's thrusts. It worked and it didn't - because Anders gasped, and shuddered all over, his hold on Quinn's hand turning vice-like, but when he moved his hips at a faster pace, he was hitting that sweet spot _constantly_ , and Quinn moaned, unable to stop what he had started. Making sure Anders came, and came _first_ , had always been something he did without thinking, a natural part of making love with Anders, but sweet Maker, he burnt with want, bright and blinding him to all else.  
  
Anders's voice echoed in his ears. _Tonight, I want to do the giving._ This was what he had meant, wasn't it? The thought that Anders was _giving_ him this, like a gift, wanted him to take what he wanted and enjoy it, was what broke the last tethers of his restraint, and his orgasm rushed up on him.  
  
"I'm - I'm going to - Oh, Anders, love, I'm--"  
  
And with that, Quinn's entire body went taut, so full of feeling it was a wonder he didn't burst, and he let out a small cry as he crested the peak and came. His cock spurted thickly into the pillow under him, and over Anders's coaxing hand. He wasn't sure which one of them trembled, or if it was the both of them, so joined together they were, but Anders took a firm hold of his hip and thrust in deep. The continued pounding against his prostate made Quinn jerk his hips and his cock twitch to attention. His climax seemed to last, tingling in him as if waiting for Anders to join him.  
  
It was better than an eternity of plum duffs.  
  
Anders stiffened and went still, and sobbed out _Quinn_ , and then he was coming too, muscles spasming before he collapsed on top of Quinn, utterly spent. He was heavy and sticky with sweat, but his arms came up to hold Quinn close, and that was all that mattered. Quinn squirmed until he could push the pillow away, and breathed in the scent of Anders and sex and Anders.  
  
"Are we, um, actually going to sleep in this mess?" was the first thing that fell out of his mouth. It wasn't terribly romantic, but at the moment he felt so cherished that if he tried to talk about his feelings he would probably choke.  
  
Anders tightened his hold, burying his face in Quinn's hair. At some point, it had slipped loose, and was now a mess of stubbornly curling tawny tangles.  
  
"Magic," he mumbled, sensibly, but that was Anders, sensible when it came to the strangest things.  
  
"Oh. Good plan." Quinn would get right on that. When he was done basking in the happy afterglow. Possibly in a month or so.   
  
Eventually, he stirred and shelved the moment like a good book he intended to pick up and read time and time again. Anders was falling asleep, and hardly reacted when he gently nudged him this way and that, putting the bed back together and tidying up the both of them. He took care of people and things; that was his mission in life.   
  
When everything was in the right place, and he had managed to push a pillow under Anders's weary head, he pulled the covers over them and let himself sink into satisfied drowsiness.   
  
Anders's arm snaked around him, but he didn't open his eyes.  
  
"Did I give you enough?" he murmured, words slurring with sleep.  
  
Affection splashed in Quinn's chest. He touched his lips on the bit of skin between Anders's eyebrows, another silly place to kiss someone.  
  
"Always," he promised, and snuggled close, closing his eyes as well.

\-----------------

Quinn woke up when someone started licking his face. At first he thought it might have been Anders, but the kisses were really _rather_ wet, and he soon recognised the sausage-breath.  
  
"No, Genitivi," he murmured, and buried his head deeper into the pillow, shooing the mabari away with one hand.  
  
Genitivi let out a disappointed howl, and relented, but then Quinn's shoulder was poked, and when that didn't make him sit up, his head, insistently. He looked up, and once the haze of sleep cleared he saw Steafan's grinning face.  
  
"Quinn, Quinn, wake up! I made you tea!" The boy looked as proud as a peacock, and promptly climbed into the bed, over the covers.  
  
"Really? All by yourself? That was very nice of you." Quinn sat up, and smoothed the covers over himself and Anders, aware that neither of them was wearing so much as a night shirt. Anders was lying on his stomach and hugging the pillow, as usual, dead to the world.   
  
More heads appeared at the foot of the bed, eyes crinkled in giggles. Gwen, Keavy's feisty little sister, bounced onto the bed after Steafan. The children were all fully dressed; apparently, this had been a planned wake-up call. Come to think of it, the door had been locked.  
  
"Bodahn made the tea, not you, silly." Gwen shoved playfully at Steafan, who tumbled out of the way. He somersaulted into Anders, who mumbled something about battle kittens, and slumbered on.  
  
"I helped!" Steafan stuck out his tongue and tried to stand on his head.  
  
"And I helped with the manchets!" Maura announced, and Genitivi pushed her onto the bed after the other two.  
  
There was a familiar tea tray on the night stand. The teapot sat underneath the cosy, and there was a plate piled high with freshly baked manchet bread next to it, and butter and honey to go with it. Lydia was already reaching out her hand to sneak one manchet into the pocket of her dress, but quickly withdrew when Quinn saw her, and smiled beatifically.  
  
Quinn opened his mouth to ask the children to please get down from the bed, but then smiled instead. He didn't have the heart, and in case, he'd be lying if he claimed he didn't like the hustle and bustle.  
  
"Lydia, could you hand me my shirt, please? I suppose I better get dressed, if breakfast is served. Morning, everyone! Have you had breakfast yet?"  
  
There was a choir of cheery _good mornings_ and declarations that they had indeed all had porridge, and finished every spoonful. Anders stirred, but didn't wake up; it was never quiet in Darktown, which had led to him developing the ability to sleep soundly anywhere, even in the middle of chitter-chatter.  
  
Quinn pulled the shirt on, and smoothed down his wildly curling hair. Lydia and Luc had joined the other children on the bed, and were playing patty-cake. Maura sat on top of Anders, and plaited his hair, face screwed up in concentration. Quinn felt a wave of warm nostalgia wash over him; this was even noisier than their family mornings when the twins and he had been little, but the casual closeness and the feeling of belonging was very familiar, and very welcome.  
  
Steafan climbed over Quinn's legs, a-buzz with energy. "Aren't you cold, sleeping naked? My toes get all frozen in winter. Frozen! And then they shatter and fall off!" He spread his arms and made a sound that indicated his toes, bare and very much present, had exploded messily.  
  
"My feet _didn't_ fall off," Luc said, and showed his skill in wiggling his toes. "Even though they were so cold they were warm."  
  
Quinn pulled Steafan a-right when he made another attempt to stand on his head and almost toppled on Gwen. "Well, I have Anders to keep me warm. Isn't it nice to have a sister or a friend to snuggle up to when it's cold outside?"  
  
"Maura says I move around too much," Steafan said, and managed to sound like it came as a surprise.  
  
"Quinn's right, I can't sleep at all if Annalyn isn't there," Gwen said, and patted Genitivi, who was circling the bed, panting and wagging his tail, calculating if there would be room enough left for a mabari.

Steafan straddled Quinn's legs, and poked at his chest. "Um. Quinn?" He accepted the manchet Quinn had buttered for him, but didn't eat it, waiting until Quinn had handed bread to all who wanted it. Amazingly, he remained unmoving throughout, and his expression hinted at Serious Business.  
  
"What is it, Steafan?" Quinn bit into the manchet; it was delicious, melt-in-your-mouth good, and tasted faintly of cinnamon and nutmeg. He hadn't been able to afford manchet before he became a Champion, and now had it at every opportunity; he wondered if he would ever get used to it, let alone tired of it.  
  
The boy picked at his bread, spreading crumbs all over Quinn's lap. "Can you be my dad?" he asked, under his breath, and didn't look up at the astonished Quinn. "If I promise not to swing on the chandelier again?"  
  
"Can Anders be _my_ dad?" Maura asked, and looked up from the fourth finished plait. She had used her own ribbons; they were bright red, and tied into perfect bowknots. "Then when he gets his griffon it'll be _my_ griffon, too!"  
  
"That's not fair! I want to ride a griffon too!" Luc exclaimed.  
  
"You already _have_ a dad," Gwen said, sharp as always. "And I was here before Maura and Steafan, so Anders should be my dad first."  
  
Steafan threw himself at Quinn, wrapping his arms tightly around his neck. "You can have Anders, but you can't have Quinn! I asked him first!"  
  
Quinn laughed, his heart filled to bursting as he listened to the children bickering over him and Anders like they were the last pieces of pie. "Now, now." He gave Steafan a hug, to reassure him, and set him down to sit on the bed between him and Anders. "No need to fight. We can both be your dads, if you want us to. I'm sure that Anders has nothing against introducing you to his griffon, if he ever finds one. Remember, the story said they lived a long time ago, on the Anderfels mountains."  
  
That seemed to settle the dispute, and Maura pulled another ribbon from her pocket, continuing to make plaits. Lydia climbed over to steal a hug from Quinn, too, and another bit of manchet.  
  
Luc gave Quinn a thoughtful look. "I don't need three dads, do I, messere Hawke? Gwen's right, it isn't fair when some people don't have any."  
  
"I don't have to be your dad," Quinn said, smiling. "But I'd love to be your friend. You and your brother can visit me any time, and there's always a little something in the pantry for hungry guests."  
  
The little boy's face changed entirely when he grinned. When he was serious, hurt showed in his eyes, too much for a boy his age. A grin turned him back into a little child, happy and carefree.  
  
"And call me Quinn. You don't call any of your other friends 'messere', do you?"

Luc giggled at the thought, and moved out of the way when Genitivi finally saw his chance and pounced onto the bed, sending children tumbling out of the way, squealing in surprise and joy. Even Anders woke up, finally, and raised his head from the pillow. He blinked his eyes blearily when the big mabari pawed at Quinn, barking in excitement.  
  
"Don't move!" Maura warned, finishing the last bowknot, and sat up to admire her work.  
  
Quinn kissed Anders's forehead, laughter bubbling in him as he pushed the neatly plaited hair back. "Good morning, sleepyhead. You better listen to her. Apparently, you are her new parent. Isn't that right, Maura?"  
  
"And mine, too!" Steafan piped up, seizing the chance. "I can have you both, can't I, Quinn? It's fair 'cause otherwise I have only one parent, and everyone should get two, right? Right?"  
  
Anders made an attempt to get up, but soon realised Maura was sitting on him, and looked around in confusion as the children chattered and giggled all around him, climbing over him and Quinn and Genitivi. "I have a feeling I've slept through something significant," he said.  
  
Quinn lifted Maura onto Genitivi's back, and poured tea for the both of them while Anders scrambled to sit up, looking silly, hair all tied up with pretty bows, and sleepy.  
  
"What do I have in my hair?" Anders asked, a smile finding its way to his lips, and took the teacup from Quinn. With his other hand, he caught Steafan when he fell over yet again, still perfecting his headstand.  
  
Quinn touched their smiles together, and stole a tender kiss. "Don't worry, my love. You'll catch up."

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on the Dragon Age Kinkmeme.


End file.
